


my house of stone, your ivy grows

by mycleverusername



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Hanukkah, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycleverusername/pseuds/mycleverusername
Summary: “Any special occasion?”Patrick shoots him a quizzical look. “Um, Hanukkah?”“What? That’s not for weeks.”“David, Hanukkah starts on Thursday.”The first year of their marriage, David and Patrick celebrate Hanukkah with the Roses on FaceTime.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 41
Kudos: 171





	my house of stone, your ivy grows

David should’ve known his husband was up to something when he volunteered to do the vendor pickups all the way out in Elm Valley that December morning. It was David’s turn, for one thing, and they always follow the schedule. And Patrick doesn’t particularly enjoy road trips. He gets anxious, David knows, when he’s away from the store. Especially this close to the end of the year, Patrick is always darting in and out of the office to fiddle with some spreadsheet or another, reassured only when all the numbers keep coming out the same.

So when David feels Patrick hovering close behind him that afternoon as he refolds the hand-knit sweaters, he realizes: he’s about to receive a Patrick Brewer Gesture, trademark pending. But what for? None of their relationship milestones are during the winter. 

“Hi,” Patrick says shyly.

David turns. His husband holds a white paper box in his hands, about the size of a piece of paper and a few inches deep.

“Is that for me?” David asks.

Patrick nods, but makes no move to hand it over.

“Is it… edible?”

“Ah, sorry, no,” he answers. 

“What?” David pushes. “Are you mad I forgot whatever occasion this is? Usually you can’t wait to see me open your ridiculous little teddy bears and heart-shaped chocolates.”

Patrick sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, and you didn’t forget anything. I just wasn’t sure…” he trails off. Finally, he opens the box, revealing a set of tapered candles. They’re gorgeous, blue at the top fading into white at the bottom. Each is just a smidge different, a clear sign of being homemade.

“They’re beautiful,” David says honestly. “Any special occasion?”

Patrick shoots him a quizzical look. “Um, Hanukkah?”

“What? That’s not for weeks.”

“David, Hanukkah starts on Thursday.”

A quick Google search confirms that fact.

“Well, we’ll have to dig up the menorah Dad left us,” David remarks. “I hope these fit in it. Miranda really outdid herself.”

Patrick smiles, relieved. “The menorah is in the cabinet above the kitchen sink,” he says. “And don’t worry. I sent Miranda the measurements, so they’ll fit.”

* * *

The store is so busy with holiday shoppers – Christmas shoppers, the vast majority of them – that David forgets all about Hanukkah until Thursday morning.

# alexis

####  **Today** 11:14 AM

Alexis
    so what time are we lighting the lil candles 2nite?

David
    ...
    what

Alexis
    DAVID
    it’s the 1st night of hanukkah!! 🕎

David
    oh yeah
    how did you know that

Alexis
    there are like, a bunch of jewish people in new york David, I know when hanukkah is
    and Patrick told me you’re going to light candles!
    what time? I’m going to happy hour with Leighton Meester’s publicist but I wanna facetime in if I can

David
    um
    8pm?

Alexis
    perf

* * *

David’s laptop rings with an incoming FaceTime call at exactly 8pm, shockingly, as he sits on the couch in the front room of the cottage. The menorah and candles and lighter are laid out on the coffee table in front of him. “Hold on,” Alexis says in lieu of hello. “I’m adding in Mom and Dad.”

“What?!” David screeches. Patrick snickers beside him. “Do they even know how to do that?”

They do, it turns out, but barely. His father’s hand is deeply unsteady; David has to look away to avoid getting seasick. His parents are seated at the dining room table of their Los Angeles home. His sister lounges on her couch. They chatter idly for a minute, but David feels impatient. They haven’t eaten dinner yet, see, and he’s hungry.

“Does everyone have their candles ready?”

“Oh, no, David,” Alexis shakes her head. “My fire alarm is like, super sensitive. Yeah, I tried to make chicken once and it beeped for like twenty minutes, even though there was just a teensy little bit of smoke. So I can’t light candles, or probably use my oven ever again.”

David sighs. “Mom and Dad?”

“David!” Moira chastises. “It would be most irresponsible of us to light candles this evening. Need I remind you we now reside in California? One little ember could set the whole state ablaze!”

“I didn’t realize I would be putting on a show for everyone,” David protests. Patrick elbows him gently. “Right, let’s do this.”

Patrick and David stumble through the prayers, three, for the first night, reading a transliteration they found on the internet. The others just listen, although Mr. Rose adds an enthusiastic “Amen” after each one. 

David flicks the lighter and holds it to the bottom of one candle, letting wax drip into the menorah for a moment to help hold the candle in place. Then he lights the other candle, the _shamash_ , and uses it to light the first candle, before sticking it in the place of honor in the middle of the menorah.

Task complete, he turns to face the camera. “So,” he says. “Ta-da.”

“Splendid!” Moira exclaims.

“Yay, David!” Alexis cheers. 

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Alright, kids,” Johnny says. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure,” David agrees. It’s awkward, definitely, staring at each other through screens, not something they used to do in either previous version of their lives. But it’s comforting to know exactly where they all are, that they’re spread out across the continent but still, for a moment, together. David isn’t sure they’ll manage to keep this up for eight whole nights, but he wants, he realizes, to try.

* * *

The thing about David’s family is that they always manage to surprise him. Because every night that week, at 8pm Schitt’s Creek time, the phone rings. And it kind of horrifies him, around night three or four, to realize that he’s having _fun_. 

He likes hearing his family’s voices, the familiar rhythms of their banter. On night two, his mother tells them about her day shooting on a green screen with Nicole Kidman, the two of them pretending to swim through what the special effects team will make to look like an underwater cave. 

Night three veers off course as Johnny requests his children’s help setting up their smart TV. 

On night four, they congratulate Alexis on a new contract to promote seven Interflix originals in next six months. 

David had mentioned, on night two or three, his jealousy that the others all had access to Jewish delis while he suffered without. On night five, he arrives home from work to find Patrick frying up a batch of latkes from a box of Manischewitz mix. “It was sitting on our porch in a Prime box when I got home,” he explains. A twinkle in Alexis’ eye on their call that night gives her away as their benefactor.

Patrick goads David into a debate about _Love Actually_ on night six, which leads to a discussion about the tragic lack of Hanukkah representation in the media. Adam Sandler songs and the Rugrats movie are not enough, even if they are wonderful.

On the seventh night they manage to talk for over an hour, about everything and nothing. After, David’s cheeks hurt from laughing. He goes to bed with a smile.

* * *

On night eight, the last night, their numbers grow by three. Marcy and Clint Brewer phone in, having heard all about the festivities over texts that week. At the last minute, Alexis adds Stevie, who grumbles but is quietly pleased to be included, David can tell.

After they all hang up, David stares for a long while at the fully-lit menorah on the table as it casts a glow around the living room, cutting through the deep dark of a rural winter’s night. By the window stands the Christmas tree, a seven-foot-tall Douglas fir tastefully adorned with strings of white lights.

(“I’m surprised you want a natural tree, they can be messy,” Patrick had said.

“I’m surprised you think I would allow synthetic fibers into my home,” David had replied. “Also, I want to watch you chop it down.”)

It’s beautiful, their home, but something is missing.

Patrick appears suddenly in his periphery and hands David a mug of hot cocoa, holding on to another full of tea. He sits close, knowing without being told that his husband needs the proximity. David likes that about him.

“It’s hard,” David says finally. “I know we made the right decision, staying, I just… miss them.”

“Of course you do,” Patrick replies, his gaze soft. “I know that’s a new feeling for you.”

David shakes his head. “No, I always missed them.” He pauses. “I just didn’t know they were missing me back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Patrick breathes, leaning his temple against David’s bicep and wrapping his free hand around his waist. “They were. They are.”

“Yeah,” David agrees. “It’s different now.”

Patrick pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it around them. They sit together in silence for a long while, sipping their drinks. Eventually, Patrick says, “You know, unlike the miraculous oil, video chats can last for more than eight nights.”

David hums in acknowledgement. 

“And we’ll go visit them soon.”

“I’d like that,” David says. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know, David,” Patrick confirms. 

“It helps, I think, that they seem happy. And I’m happy too. I just… it’s hard.”

Patrick kisses his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

David burrows deeper into his husband’s side. “Thank you,” he says. For giving me time, for giving me candles, for cooking for me, for putting up with me, for being my numbers guy, for loving me. But he doesn’t elaborate, not out loud. He knows he doesn’t need to.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing to celebrate the last night of Hanukkah. It ended up having a lot more feelings than I expected, because of course it did. Happy Hanukkah, everyone, I hope you find some light. 
> 
> Title is, of course, from Taylor Swift.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
